Her Prerogative
by TheUptownGirl
Summary: Why can't they just let her live the life that she wants...even if it means her self-destruction.


Author's Note: This is a piece based on Brittany's Spears' "My Prerogative." Let me know what you think!!

_**People can take everything away from you**_

_**  
But they can never take away your truth**_

**_  
But the question is..._**

**_  
Can you handle mine?_**

She knew she strutted when she walked. It was in her nature ever since she entered this world. This was how it worked. Her body was her biggest weapon. It could seduce, could mangle, and could kill. She had used her body for all of the aforementioned. It never really bothered her before. This was the life of a woman in espionage. The women in this criteria were a different breed than the average woman. She had gotten used to being among these women, feeling proud that she was among the best and the brightest.

Now, there was a gap between her and those other women.

When she walked, no strutted, into the Rotunda, people started to whisper. They were talking about her. "That's the one-everyone thought she was dead!" "Did you hear-she was sleeping with Vaughn and then he got married after she disappeared." She laughed this off. These people were so sad-all they had to do was gossip about her life. Wasn't there some massive problem to be taken care of? Her life wasn't that important. And it sure as hell wasn't the subject of water cooler chitchat. There were times that she wanted to hurt "those people" who talked about her. It wasn't fair. She hadn't done anything to deserve to be the subject of public talk.

**They say I'm crazy**

**  
I really don't care**

**  
That's my prerogative**

**  
**

Until now.

_**They say I'm nasty**_

_**  
But I don't give a damn**_

_**  
Getting boys is how I live**_

_**  
Some ask me questions**_

There was no mission, no objective. But she decided that it was time to take her life into her own hands. She needed to live as if she never had before. Maybe it was time for her resurrection. College was a joke-she rarely went...she was shy and insecure. There was the rare frat party, spent sipping spiked punch while she watched Francie dance. Sydney always hated dancing. She wasn't confident enough in it. There was when she went into K-Directorate. Her handler...the woman she trusted with her life...taught her how to dance. Sounds so stupid doesn't it? But she had taught her how to be herself....how to play hard to get. And now, it was going to come in very handy.

She walked-no, strutted into the club. She knew she was older than half of those people there. Mostly college kids high and drunk out for a good time on a late Saturday night. She was young enough to pass for an older college kid. Her body was in its best shape-she knew she looked good. Wearing nothing more than a tight fitting, shot black dress with a plunging neckline, she made her way onto the dance floor. It was just like being on a mission. She didn't have to be herself. She didn't have to be anymore.

And now, she never felt so free.

_**Why am I so real?**_

_**  
But they don't undersand me**_

_**  
I really don't know the deal about my sister**_

_**  
Trying hard to make it right**_

_**  
Not long ago**_

_**  
Before I won this fight**_

Her hips began to move in beat with the heavy music, her chest heaving with the smells of smoke, liquor, and sweat. It was an intoxicating combination. Her hands drifted up over her head and her eyes shut. She could be anywhere she wanted. She could be with the man she was no longer allowed to love. Or, she could play every man in this club and get whatever she wanted. The latter would be easier. Her honey brown eyes shot open and she scanned the floor. Who would be her victim? Her body slipped into a more seductive motion. This wasn't like her but then again, what was like her? She had no past, no present, and a murky future. She was in a theatrical limbo and she wanted it to end. She wouldn't go home with some guy. She wouldn't sleep with someone just to get away from it all. All she wanted was to feel another human being's warmth around her forever-cold body.

He was tall and with jet-black hair. There was something about him that was familiar. It was that he looked like every other boy in every college in every college town bar. He was the All-American boy and he was going to be hers. She caught his deep blue eyes and smiled. He smiled back. And that was the hook. She spun around and waited for him to make his move. It was his turn.

**_Everybody's talking all this stuff about me_**

_**  
Why don't they just let me live?**_

_**  
I don't need permission, make my own decisions**_

_**  
That's my prerogative**_

_**  
that's my prerogative **_

_**  
**_

Black Hair Boy, all of twenty-two, came walked over to her, drink still in hand, "Hey."

She whipped around, knowing how close her body was to his, "Hey." Her voice came out low and raspy. The space closed between and before she knew it, her body was pressed up close to his. "Put the drink down. You're gonna need both hands." She whispered into his ear. He held the glass up to his lips, downed the rest of the clear liquid and then dropped the glass on the floor. It immediately shattered into millions of pieces. Sydney stepped straight out onto it, feeling it crack beneath her feet. Her feet held on either side of his right foot, her body was now flush to his.

"So what's your name?" Black Hair Boy yelled into her ear, pressing his mouth against the hinge of her jaw.

"What do you want my name to be?" She turned her head and yelled into his. She wormed against him as his arms snaked around her tiny waist and drifted down the back of her thighs.

He looked at her funny but something told her that he really didn't mind. Their hips began to grind together, moving in perfect synch with the music. Her hands raked over his chest, up around his neck and through his hair. Their foreheads were pressed together. "I don't care what your name is, pretty girl." His breath smelled of vodka.

"Just call me Pretty Girl, then." She responded. "I don't care what your name is. Don't tell me.". She pushed her long fingers into his khaki belt loops; bring his hips in direct contact with hers. "Like what you see?"

"Definitely." He responded.

They continued to dance fast and close for who knows how long. It didn't matter. What was she living for anyway? She had nothing except her job. Maybe if she went out every night and reclaimed part of her that never existed, she would feel whole again. Something had to make her feel complete. He buried his head in her neck, not sure whether to lay his lips against her skin. She wasn't intoxicated and even in his state, he knew that she was balancing a fine line. He wanted this night to have a happy ending for him.

There was a bit of hesitation as she was getting ready that night. A sense of foreboding panic. This wasn't like her and it scared her. She was the "good girl" throughout college and most of her adult life. Regardless of her job, those clothes belonged to someone else. Sydney Bristow checked out as her alias checked in. But going to a club, dressed like that, there was no checking out. There was no other woman to fill the void and all that was left was her.

She turned suddenly, "I'm leaving." And she strutted away.

Black Hair Boy was persistent. He followed after her, his beautiful eyes were wide, "Pretty Girl, Pretty Girl-where are you going?"

Fighting through the throngs of people, she turned around again and shouted over the music. "I'm going home and you're not coming with me." She quickly licked her lips, indecisive for a short moment. She leaned forward and pressed her lips chastely to his cheek. "Have a nice life, kiddo."

Her life continued like that for a long time. Every night after work, she went to the same club. Alcoholic was slowly integrated into her routine. There were quick and painless shots and that slid down her throat like black acid. There were beers and hard liquor. She was never drunk but tipsy enough to lose control of her body. She changed her dress every once and a while. One night maybe she wore red, another one black, and if she was feeling really crazy, white. There was Black Hair Boy, Shy and Simple, Strong and Athletic, Dark and Mysterious and Intelligent and Uptight. They all did the same thing-bought her drink, danced a few dances and were left in the dust. It was just the way the world worked for her.

People at work began to catch on. The rumors began to fly even more. Sydney Bristow was turning her career into a hobby. The rumors started to intensify. She was working the streets now. She was an alcoholic. She was pregnant and quitting the Agency. She was dating a married man. She was seeing Vaughn behind Lauren's back. She was suicidal. The alcoholic rumor spread like wildfire, especially when she started coming in hung over. It was a routine and the bags under eyes told them the stories. All they had to do was look at her.

She did hear the rumors but could care less. If these people's lives were so sad then let them indulge in their fantasies about her. Let them think whatever they wanted. She was into her sixth week of her "destructive behavior." Her patience for sitting through meetings was growing thinner. All she wanted to do while she was at work was go home so she could go out. Her life was beginning to revolve around the escape.

She sat at her desk, unable to focus on anything. He had been watching her distracted phase for more than he wanted to admit. Finally, he gained enough courage to walk over to her, "Are you okay, Syd?" Vaughn asked, interrupting her day dream. She had been thinking about which dress she would wear tonight and inadvertently shaking her pen rapidly in her hand.

She was caught. Blushing, she replied, "I'm fine." She turned in her chair to face him and flashed him a defensive smile.

He sat down on a corner of her desk. "You're lying." Normally, he wouldn't have been this blunt but he had heard the rumors going around and they terrified him. How had he let her slip so far down? She was deconstructing in front of his eyes and he had been too blind to see it. She had lost weight and most of it was muscle. This was so dangerous. If she lost even an ounce of strength, it could mean the difference between life and death.

**_Everybody's talking all this stuff about me_**

_**  
Why don't they just let me live?**_

_**  
I don't need permission, make my own decisions**_

_**  
That's my prerogative**_

_**  
that's my prerogative **_

"I am not and if you'll excuse me, I have work to do." She turned back towards her desk. Her hands were placed on the keyboard, poised and ready to go back to retyping her brief. But he placed his hand on her shoulder, interrupting her work. She snapped her head around and found herself almost nose to nose with him. Slightly annoyed, she rolled back in her chair.

"Syd, what's going on?" He leaned in closer to her and started to whisper. "I'm hearing all this stuff about you and I'm really worried about you. Is everything okay?"

Pain flooded her fast than she could have ever expected it to. Her body started to shake and felt as though her body was going to collapse. She was in less pain when she was shot. "You heard stuff about me? Which rumor is this? There's enough going to around to write a tell-all book! What would you like to know? I can tell you anything that you want! What would you like to know about me? What do you want from me?" With each word, she grew increasingly louder until she was standing up and screaming at the top of her lungs. She hadn't intended on losing her temper but somehow, it just happened. Something about hearing those words from his mouth sent her crashing over the brink of insanity. "What would any of you like to know?" The normal gentle chatter of the Rotunda ceased and everyone stopped moving to stare with wide eyes at her. "Just ask me!" She made her way towards the center of the room. She was thrashing slightly and her body was most certainly no longer under her control.

_**Everybody's talking all this stuff about me**_

_**  
Why don't they just let me live?**_

_**  
I don't need permission, make my own decisions**_

_**  
That's my prerogative**_

_**  
That's my prerogative **_

She hadn't meant to but the emotions took over her. "I hear you all talking about me." She began to shake and her voice started to lower, "I hear you all talking about me." Finally, she whispered, "I hear you all talking about me."

Vaughn had walked over to her and collected her in his arms, "Sydney." His arms wrapped around her lower back and kissed the crown of her hair softly. "It's okay. Shh..." He didn't know why she broke at that particular moment. She didn't even know why.

"I hear you all talking about me." She finally broke into his chest, crying. "They think I don't hear all of the rumors. I'm not like that. I swear, I'm not like that."

Feeling his heart break, he gently stroked her hair. "I know. And we're going to fix that." Realizing that there was still a lot of attention being drawn, he spoke in a paternal loud voice, "Go back to your work! You've already done this to this woman-do you need to do more?"

They escaped from the harsh eyes and went outside to the fresh air, feeling it hit their bodies like bricks. They climbed the slow and steep steps to the roof. "Are you gonna explain to me what's been going on? Syd, I'm really worried about you." He finally asked, unwrapping her from his arms and allowing her to stand on her own. He looked at her with the most love and understanding in his eyes.

She placed her hands on either side of the ledge and sighed, "Everything's fine. I'm just trying to live again." She took in a slow and shaky inhale. "I feel like I'm back in high school. Everybody's talking and gossiping about everybody else. It's really sickening."

"You can't live like this."

**_Why can't I live my life_**

**_  
Without all of the things_**

_**  
That people say **_

_**  
oh oh**_

She turned to him and shook her head in disbelief, "Oh yeah? How am I supposed to live? This is my only alternative." She looked out into the blue sky. "I have to get through everyday."

"But it's not about getting through everyday. You don't have to go out every night and you don't have to get drunk every night."

Feeling cornered, she wanted to run. "I've got to go."

He grabbed her arm, stopping her. He forgot what her skin felt like under hers. "No you don't."

"Get yours hands off of me." She hissed, not bearing to tear her eyes away from his arm grasped on her forearm.

"I won't until you tell me what's going on.." He watched her relax slightly, "Sydney, I'm worried about you. This isn't good."

Her brown eyes still refused to move from his grasp. "I won't ask you again, Vaughn. Get your hands off of me." Finally, he agreed to her demands, "Let me live my life the way I want to. If you love me, you'll let me go."

His heart started to break a this point, "Sydney-"

"I don't want you to do or say anything. I want you to keep doing what you've been doing. I need to settle back into my life and live my life." Something in her eyes turned dark and she nodded solemnly. "Let me live."


End file.
